


Absolute therapeutic chaos

by Littleboy



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: I am sorry in advance, My First Fanfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:20:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22407856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littleboy/pseuds/Littleboy
Summary: This is an almost, shameless fantasy self-insert to Warcraft timeline, where canon is punched in the face, but world-building lore is sacred. Wherein characters aren't perfect, goblins are getting screen-time, and magic isn't as great as it's marketed to be. Almost a fix-it fic, with long-term repercussions and the intervention of one messy and chaotic back-alley healer hitting fuck it. Will contain mentions of body horror as we venture into good old fashioned medicine and the classic bigotry of humans and the like. Warnings will be posted before each chapter, but as a general guide: it will be a raw attempt of fantasy-based realism without, hopefully, the cringe.Might turn into this into a romance? I am a softy, and I will write cute gays- including background oc's, and the occasional core character as things change. Any romance will be slow, as any good vibes are gonna take a while to get there as the story progresses.No beta we die like men. Updates will probably range anywhere from minor spelling and grammar edits to six brand new chapters. SPicy.
Kudos: 1





	Absolute therapeutic chaos

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a (glacial) slow burn, mostly focused on the main character and the consequent relationships and events that occur. The first chapter fleshes out the premise, so is a little short, but constructive criticism is always welcomed! Each chapter will contain specific content warnings and possible triggers in the notes section, before any actual writing, as I'm expecting this to be gritty with a splash of salt- this won't be for the faint of heart as it will touch upon a multitude of sensitive topics. That being said, I will do my best to be respectful and considerate, nothing will be written in detail, touched upon, or insinuated that I don't think important to the character's story or state of mind. With that said, please enjoy! And please review what you think! 
> 
> P.s. It's the perspective of a healer, one that doesn't use light, and from a baby, enby gay in a world of magic and dragons, and what that actually means, where characters don't have human rights, let alone a gender binary. 
> 
> P.s.s. thank you so much to everyone who actually read this?!

Chapter 1

At the beginning I remembered nothing, the depthless void pulsed at the back of my head as I opened my eyes and darkness followed. Everything was only half-real, the state between dazed wakefulness and nothing at all, white spots tracing lazy patterns under my eyelids as gradually awareness returned to me. Despite this, it was hard to find real concern and think. This wasn’t real, my brain supplied, and I was inclined to agree. I was half-curled, warm, and content to drift through consciousness through this lazy, smokey awareness where nothing was real and nothing could harm me. My thoughts were sluggish, helpfully vague and almost, but not quite- insistent reminders of the past day popped up across the forefront of my mind as slowly but surely, I awakened. A small twitch of the feet here, and a short sigh there as I rolled over onto my back, clutching faintly scratchy covers tighter against me. A breath as my chest rose evenly, my fingers and hair poking out from the nest of blankets I had burrowed myself into.

Inhaling deeply, my eyes shot open mid-sleep induced wiggle, as the tips of my toes shot past the all-encompassing cocoon of warmth, and out, exposed, and clammy in the suddenly frigid air. A door slammed, behind me. Distant-although all too close and indiscernible chattering shattered any illusion of peace and within half a frozen breath, a deep monotone, unrecognizable to me as anything other than a strange man’s, a tone which resonated within my chest. Rubbing my legs together slightly, I twisted my torso back, half-propped against something lumpy and hard feeling, of its own volition- my slim, pale hand-dived beneath myself, counterbalancing myself as well as confirming that this wasn’t at all my bunk-bed. My bunk wasn’t made of wood. I leaned back a little, and listened more closely, to this voice in the pitch blackness, and the faint squeak of floorboards. 

A deeply nagging suspicion was blinking in the back of my mind, these weren’t my blankets and the pull of tanned, ill-fitting and scratchy, what even was this? linen? definitely wasn’t my shirt. It never occurred to me that floorboards really were a thing of the past until much later. Lazily rocking, carefully upwards onto my knees, I held my breath, trying to make as little noise as possible, as the distant voice faded away, into nothingness, like it was never there, to begin with. Waiting, mentally prepped to find the voice again, I waited for a long time, disregarding the sound as never happening to begin with when the silence grew stifling. The thin, moth-eaten blankets that were layered around myself, fell to the wayside and dipped beneath the weight of my palms. Scrabbling madly around myself, my fingers caught on stiff, oddly scented bed sheets, searching for a phone that wasn’t there, finally feeling foolish for waiting for a voice that wouldn’t be there. Instead, to eliminate the possibility entirely, I called out, hushed, vaguely rubbing the wisp-thin material beneath my fingers and thumb, and I called out, whispering to my sister.

‘’ Larnie? Are you awake?’’ a heartbeat passed, another two. I was wide awake now and tilting my head upwards, and peeking above my mattress, where my mattress should have been, I strained my ears listening for any kind of response. Breathing, or the familiar and comforting rustle of fabric followed by a sleepy yawn, and my sister’s quiet voice mumbling soothingly in the dark. 

The chill of the room became noticeable then, brushing across my exposed skin, through the strangely, heavy shirt against my breast and settling against my skin. The many-layered cocoon of blankets parted, revealing a thick, pale thigh. With disconnected, bemused concern at the state of the seemingly unfamiliar blankets I was wrapped within, I reached over to flip the surprisingly colour-muted and coarse sheets over, to reveal to myself in all my glory, a half- questioning breath and another quick flick of the sheets later, confirmed my own increasingly concerning nudity. I could have sworn I wore my pajamas to bed last night? A bare expanse of moon-lit curved leg stretched upwards, to my hastily re-covered thigh. A searching glance found a beam of concentrated moonlight, breaking through the clouds, as the moon shone through what must have been a window. It was within arms reach, half-covered with the remains of what felt and looked like the bedsheets I was lying upon. 

I Idly cracked the knuckles of my left hand against my hip, one after the other in quick succession, as with my other, colder, hand I essentially half groped myself, checking without a doubt that I really was naked, that the shirt I was wearing, really was in stark contrast.  
It was like a lightbulb finally sparked, I shot upwards from the bed as if scorned, bare bottom scratching against something surprisingly sharp, and making me wince. My brain finally caught up to my body, the ever-present sleep-deprived morning grogginess was stripped away to all-consuming panic in the span of a heartbeat. It was still as dark as pitch, still squinting uselessly, as I was unable to see much past a metre, as my eyes adjusted. It smelt musty in here, unused. Mentally reeling from what I can only explain as feeling as if my body switched off and then on again. I was frozen, like a deer in the headlights as I tried and failed to make any sense of this. My throat was a distant burning as I swallowed and tasted salt and iron. Idly rubbing the red and raised skin that made itself known next to my right eye. Gathering the uncomfortable mass of blankets from around my legs and fashioning it into what I can only describe as a makeshift toga around my hips, the fabric pooled across my legs, and down to my feet. Goosebumps raised across my arms, as the warmth left me, breath fogging in the twilight. My body felt strange. Moving felt distant, like a ripple in the pond, outside of myself.

Turning my head, I blinked owlishly as my eyes disbelievingly locked onto the small pallet I had been resting on. Inwardly, as the tips of my feet hit what felt like dust-laden floorboards, my mind screamed incoherently at me as my breath rushed through my lungs, my hands were shaking slightly, whether from the cold or from rushing nerves- I distractedly debated with myself as to which, as I looked around myself in utter bafflement, with an uncomfortably growing ball of fear, pitted low in my stomach, tensing my muscles and keeping me silent in the ever eerie and consuming stillness. I saw nothing of note within the darkness of the room, at least nothing recognizable. Inwardly cursing my own stupidity for want of more sleep, I took stock of what was feeling like an increasingly impossible day-dream. 

At least I wasn’t tied up, I tried to jokingly offset the sheer horror that had crawled down my throat and into my heart, as I roughly brushed my hands despairingly through my hair, slicking back the fine, wet strands. It was a tangled mess by now. Licking my lips nervously, I was again reminded of the taste of blood and salt. My sister was gone. 

From what I could discern, the room was spartan, shadows of blackness casting odd angles in the darkness, small glints of light split the small room in harsh relief, it was so old looking that it defied any sense of belief, how on earth did I get here? And where the hell was I? This wasn’t the room that I shared with my sister, the cluttered mess I was used to, of old clothes scattered amongst our shared belongings. Fidgeting slightly, I went stock-still, distant stirrings of heart-pausing fear began to churn sickeningly in the depth of my stomach, as my pulse quickened and my breath shortened when the distant chattering, that deep monotone drew closer. I could feel my entire body stiffening as my breath fogged in increasingly desperate puffs of cloud beneath my nose. I resolutely refused to believe this was anything other than my deluded mind playing tricks on me. It felt so real, the hardness beneath me, but it couldn’t be. The urge to pinch myself and slap my cheek rose but was ignored. This must be the result of my medication acting strangely, an increased dosage sending my body to sleep, but keeping my mind wide awake. Sleep paralysis I argued with myself, we’ve had it before. 

Stubbornly, I silently bartered with myself, promising that this was only a strange dream, as any other logical conclusion was bereft, whispering under my breath my misgivings of this reality. Mind resolute and the lack of any other sensible alternative, I gathered the blankets again around me, in a whisper of movement, and tried to make myself as comfortable as possible. I tucked myself securely into a ball, covering any possible inch of exposed skin with threadbare blankets- almost as an afterthought, and curling into myself for absent-minded warmth.  
I decided that the best course of action, was to go back to sleep until I woke up again in my room, in my bed, with my lovely older sister wafting a hot cup of tea under my nose and into my hands, to persuade me out of bed. Where everything made sense, where I didn’t use curtains as duvets. I wouldn’t even remember this oddly realistic dream come the morning.


End file.
